To Whom You Belong
by Moony3003
Summary: Alastair reminds Dean who he belongs to. Rated M for a reason - contains violence, blood, torture, sexual content. Don't read if you don't like any of that.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Nothing of Supernatural belongs to me. I'm just borrowing the characters for a little fun. No money is being made.

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Warning: Story contains violence, blood, and sexual content (slash). If you don't like please don't read any further.

A/N: This idea started as a oneshot and I'm unsure of whether to continue it and make it into a full story. Have any thoughts either way, let me know.

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To Whom You Belong

As a pained whimper echoed the dusty and sparsely furnished room, it gained the attention of the only other occupant who stood at a long metal table. Lightly, the floor creaked and dust jumped up as the person walked over to the one just coming back to the land of consciousness. He felt a little relieved. If it had taken much longer for him to wake up then he would have had to start without him.

A faint smile grace his long gaunt features and his eyes danced with obvious delight as he watched the man struggle to lift his head and open his eyes which he was sure were being blinded by the dreary light that filtered through the window, lighting up the space dully. Deciding the give him a little more time, the taller man walked back to the metal table and arranged his instruments carefully, thinking through what he'd like to begin with.

Another groan soon reached his ears and he chuckled lightly. Perhaps he had knocked him out a little harder than intended. Closing the distance between them, he lifted the man's head up by his chin and gradually, his eyes opened and they locked on. Instantly, they showed pure fear.

"Alastair..."

The croaky voice made Alastair's laugh bounce off the walls with ease and he stepped away again to his table. "Nice of you to join me, Dean," he drawled lazily.

Dean panted and hung his head again as the world spun rapidly before his eyes, blurring his vision. At remembering the name he just uttered his heart sank to his stomach and bile rose up his throat. This couldn't be happening. As best he could he looked around the room, instantly wondering if there was anyone else here.

"S-Sam...?"

"Oh, I am sorry," said Alastair mockingly. "Your precious Sammy couldn't be here this evening. Instead, it's just gonna be the two of us, nice and cosy."

A shiver passed through Dean at those words. The knowledge of intimate encounters with Alastair was not something foreign to him. They were horribly familiar and just the thought of it happening again felt almost too much to bear. Dean felt his chest constrict tightly with fear and while Alastair's back was to him, he attempted to pull himself free of his constrains.

Lightly, the chains rattled against the metal frame he hung from and the effort earned him a chuckle from the other end of the room. Dean froze when Alastair's tall frame turned to look at him again. Moving fluidly, Alastair took hold of one end of the table and pulled it towards him. It was then Dean could see the instruments that lay upon the table. Knives of varying lengths filled the table along with goblets full of strange liquids and many devices Dean had never seen before.

"I do believe that the chains connected the metal bed frame will be enough to hold you."

"What's the mattress for?" asked Dean, finding his voice.

"It came with the bed," replied Alastair with a smirk. "And don't worry, Dean. No one will be interrupting us, I promise."

"Cas will find me," Dean spat heatedly, hating the demon's arrogance.

Alastair tutted, shaking his index finger at him. "Don't be so sure about that," he said quietly. "I have already taken precautions to see to it that we're not disturbed. The building is protected against all things heavenly and your brother won't be awake for a while."

Dean felt a wave of panic rush through him. "What did you do to him?" he yelled.

"Sammy?" the demon questioned. "He will be fine, just sleeping while we're having a nice, friendly little chat."

As Dean's head cleared and felt back to normal, he noticed Alastair was still fiddling with the instruments upon the table. It seemed he had plenty of time and Dean didn't like the sound of that. Even without plenty of time, Alastair could still do a lot of damage. As Alastair moved towards him, the floor creaked faintly and Dean closed his eyes, hoping that Castiel would still find some way of helping him. He had to.

A grunt sounded from Dean as a large, strong hand grabbed his face and squished his features together. His eyes met Alastair's and he saw the white demon eyes come out in the excitement he felt. Dean's jaw clenched in anger but he kept his words to himself. They definitely weren't going to help him out of this.

The demon's lips curved into a knowing smile. "I know what you're thinking, Dean," he said in a light raspy voice. Dean didn't reply but closed his eyes again at the sound of his voice. It was a constant sound in his ears that never went away. "You're wondering why I just don't kill you and send you back to where you belong? Well, the answer is, there's no need to be hasty. We have time before that comes and I think you might enjoy some fun up here first."

"Fun?" Dean questioned thickly.

Alastair released Dean's face and moved to his table, picking up his favourite blade. Dean watched as the silver glinted off the light from the windows and he swallowed nervously.

"Do you remember Hell, Dean?" asked Alastair casually.

Again, Dean didn't answer. Every night he had nightmares about that very thing and it was something he wasn't ready to discuss but it seemed that Alastair wanted to talk about.

"I know even some demons hate it but it's not so bad when you get used to it..."

"You're the grand torturer," said Dean, interrupting. "Of course, you enjoyed it there."

"Ah... but so did you," retorted Alastair. "Do not forget that Dean. If you had been down there for much longer, you could have taken my title. I would have gladly given it to you."

"That's so kind of you," Dean whispered sarcastically.

Alastair chuckled. "You were much better down there then you give yourself credit for," he said lightly. "Very skilled. Do you remember that one woman who came in after making a deal to have her husband killed?"

"Don't..." Dean whispered feebly.

"She was a pure one, wasn't she?" Alastair continued, ignoring Dean. "She was the third soul you sliced into, I believe. We were in a room alone together with her. Had her chained to one of the boiling red walls, peeling skin off her back. Do you remember the smell, Dean?"

"Please... don't..." Dean whispered again, a tear rolling down one cheek.

Alastair continued as though he hadn't been interrupted. "It was of pure burnt flesh, right to the bone but she was still in one piece and just like I had taught you, you continued. Those big, wide, fearful blue eyes of hers found yours and she begged. Begged like a dog. You ignored her and sliced down her torso, from neck to abdomen. It was such a beautiful sight. The blood poured from the deep wound, spilling down her clean white skin, painting it red."

Alastair inhaled deeply, the last half of it catching in his throat from the excitement rushing through his system at reliving it. "Slowly, you shredded her body into millions of lifeless specks of ash, before she was put back together and under my watch you started all over again."

"Stop..." choked Dean.

The sound and word prompted Alastair to look at him. A large grin covered half his face as the amusement seeped through. "What's the matter, Dean? Don't like reliving happy memories? Or would you prefer to move on?"

"Move on... please," the hunter whispered inaudibly.

Alastair seemed to really think about it for a moment before deciding. Eventually, he shrugged and moved back to his metal table. "Since you asked so nicely..."

The room turned silent and all Dean could hear was the pounding of his heart against his ribcage and the rushing of blood in his ears. The hope that Sam, Bobby, Castiel or even someone else would come to rescue him was slowly fading, right before his eyes. Dean knew what Alastair was like. He wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted and he was more than sure that Alastair wanted this.

As time slowly passed, Dean took another look around the room. It still looked the same as when he last looked around. The elemental looking room only contained two wooden tables and a few chairs surrounding them. For a brief moment, it made Dean wonder what else had been in here. Looking towards the window Dean realised that something had changed. The sky was turning dark.

Booted footsteps were soon heard near him and Dean shuddered in anticipation of what was coming. As Alastair stood before him again, he noticed that the demon was no longer holding his favourite knife but a different one, a smaller one, made of pure brass. Alastair gripped the handle tightly and expertly cut away the black shirt Dean wore, letting the tatters fall to the ground, exposing his tan, musclier chest. Skimming his fingertips over the defined muscles, a wicked smile lit up his features as Dean's body quivered under the light touch. It was back to how it looked before. He chuckled softly, mostly to himself.

"I could always summon a hellhound here if you'd like to... recreate the pattern down your chest," the demon whispered in a disturbingly sultry tone.

Dean bit his tongue and Alastair quickly moved along, removing Dean's shoes, socks, jeans and the boxers underneath. Dean hissed through his teeth at the cold air hitting his naked body. A faint shade of pink singed his cheeks, noting his embarrassment but Alastair took no notice. It seemed he was more interested in what was next.

Picking up his favourite razor-like knife, the demon stepped directly in front of him again. "Where would you like me to begin?"

"That depends," said Dean slowly. "What do you plan on doing? Changed your mind about killing me?"

"No, no, no, no, no," Alastair said in quick succession, pointing a finger at Dean as though he were a naughty child. "I would never kill you until the time came, you know that, Dean," he added lightly. "I just want to have a little fun. I suppose some scars will remind you to whom you belong."

There was a pause as Alastair's human looking eyes raked over Dean's body, taking him in. "So, anything in particular you'd like?"

"I don't give a rat's ass," Dean hissed, lowering his head, which was beginning to feel increasingly heavy.

"Oh, Dean, I don't like that attitude too much but maybe you'll soon partake," Alastair purred.

Then, Alastair paused, twirling his knife in his hand effortlessly, taking his time in choosing where he would like to start. As he looked down at Dean again, he tilted his head sideways, his face steeped in curiosity. He lifted the knife and placed the blade against Dean's cheek. The hunter didn't flinch or make a sound and kept his eyes on Alastair's, making the demon chuckle with amusement.

"I have taught you well," he remarked arrogantly.

Slowly, the knife was lifted up and the tip poked the skin of his cheek without piercing it. With a slow ease, he moved the knife down, pressing the tip into the soft skin of Dean's neck. Continuing downwards, Alastair moved to the chest but still had not made a mark. Dean frowned faintly, unsure of what Alastair was doing.

Slowly, he moved the knife upwards again and to the side. Pressing the knife just beneath the nipple, Alastair dragged the knife across to the other side, allowing thin droplets of blood run down the ripped chest, marking it. Dean breathed deeply and buried the pain he felt and continued to concentrate on the demon's eyes which were still locked onto his.

"Do you know why I like to carve with a knife, Dean?" Alastair asked, pausing for a moment. "Anything else I've found to be too quick and clean. I prefer something up close and personal, something that makes blood trickle down the skin, tainting it. The little emotions just near the end really show you who people truly are. I'm amused at the core nature of humans. What's buried deep in there would surprise you."

"Go to hell," Dean hissed, annoyed with the demon's talking.

"All in good time, Dean," Alastair whispered close to his face, making Dean flinch back.

Going back to the body before him, Alastair traced the knife's tip across the chest, picking up blood along the way as he thought about where he wanted to cut next. Deciding irony was the best option, Alastair moved the blade to the bottom of Dean's neck and pressing lightly, craved a straight line down to his abdomen. Once finished, Alastair stood back and admired what he had just made. It was a cross. Just like the one Jesus had been nailed to.

"Only fitting, don't you think, Dean?" Alastair whispered, leaning close to him again. "Considering there's an angel on your shoulder. You should show your support of them."

Dean didn't reply. He closed his eyes tightly and pressed his lips together, hoping the burning pain would soon leave. Opening his eyes again, he found himself close to Alastair. Suddenly, a gasp escaped Dean as the razor in Alastair's hand pressed against the side of his abdomen. Knowing what was going to happen, he closed his eyes again. And sure enough, before long a searing pain radiated through him and his body jerked from the intrusion.

"Look at me, Dean," Alastair said in sing-song.

Feeling as though he couldn't refuse, hoping it would help, Dean reopened his eyes and focused upon the demon. Abruptly, Dean's current self-control left him as he cried out. Two long fingers entered his body through the fresh wound and wriggled slightly, the squishing sounds reaching him.

"Oh, how I have missed your insides," the demon purred. "It's been so long."

"Alastair..." Dean choked out, unable to speak the rest of the words.

The demon's inside searching continued and his head tilted sideways as he looked at the hunter with an almost innocent look on his face. "What's the matter, Dean? Tell me."

"Stop..." the hunter pleaded.

Alastair sniggered. "Becoming too much already?" he asked. "I have to say, I'm a little disappointed, Dean. Down in the pit you were strong, defiant but up here, you're already snivelling like a little girl, begging me to stop."

But Alastair pulled the two bloody fingers from Dean's body and brought it up to eye level. A manic grin spread across his face and lightly, the demon licked some of it, making Dean's stomach turn. Alastair chuckled at the hunter's display of disgust and wiped the rest off onto the baggy blue shirt he wore.

Taking hold of his knife again, Alastair held it up to Dean's face, the blade hovering threateningly. "Open up."

Dean pressed his lips together firmly and shook his head the best he could. Alastair reached up with his free hand and pinched the man's nose. For almost a minute Dean held on before he opened his mouth widely, getting the air he desperately needed and as he did so, Alastair thrusted the blade into his mouth. Dean's eyes widened as the tip of the blade rested against the back of his throat gently. Dean blinked sweat from his eyes before pulling against his restraints hard as Alastair stood back and watched. The metal around his wrists dug heavily into the skin, making them bleed.

The blood covered the metal and ran thickly down the lengths of his arms. For a moment, Alastair admired this too. The sight was beautiful. "I do respect how strong you've been so far," commented Alastair.

Dean didn't reply. Instead, short pained breaths exited his body as he concentrated on not moving for fear of the blade piercing him through the back of his head. Without warning, another knife was taken from the table and stabbed into the other side of Dean's abdomen, making him jumped in surprise. The tip of the blade within his mouth scratched the back of his throat. A quivering whimper left him as small drops of blood dripped down his throat and Dean did his best not to choke.

As tears filled Dean's eyes they quickly escaped and rolled down his face, mixing with the sweat seeping from his pores. Leaning close to Dean's face, Alastair licked a couple of them up. They tasted bitter. Removing the bloodied knife, Alastair let it fall to the ground beside him and he leaned his tall frame against Dean gently, smearing the blood against him.

"Would you like some more pain or shall I give you a little pleasure?"

The blade in his mouth prevented Dean from answering but he didn't want either, not from Alastair. Tentatively, Dean locked eyes with Alastair and shook his head. But it seemed the demon wasn't going to take that as an answer and it seemed Alastair had already made the decision for him. He walked out of sight around Dean and picked up the mattress that lay on the ground. The same one Dean had noticed earlier and placed it back into its frame. Dean felt himself moved forward at it pressed against him and once into place, Alastair moved the bed frame back onto all four legs.

Dean gasped loudly as they hit the floor and Alastair only laughed quietly. As Dean now faced the fading, chipped grey ceiling he inwardly prayed. Someone had to get him. He wasn't going to survive this. Last time he and Alastair were alone for a long time, he gave in. He knew being up here it was different but pain is still pain.

The bed creaked and dipped as Alastair sat beside him, running four fingertips over the bloody mess on his stomach and chest, spreading it around. After a few moments Alastair wiped his hand that was covered in Dean's blood onto his jeans before settling down beside him on the bed again. Reaching a hand over Dean's face, he slowly pulled the blade out of Dean's mouth and placed it in his other hand. He smiled faintly as he stroked Dean's face almost lovingly.

"Is that better?"

Dean only nodded to those words prompting Alastair to move the blade against his neck. "And what do you say?"

Dean's jaw clenched tightly but he knew it would be worse if he didn't play along. "Thank you, Alastair," he spat angrily.

"That's better," the demon purred.

There was a slight pause before Alastair said another word. "Do you think I could turn you on?" Alastair asked almost curiously, looking over Dean's naked form.

"Screw you," muttered Dean thickly.

"Maybe not," said Alastair quickly. "But I'll screw you if you're nice."

"Don't you dare touch me," Dean hissed harshly.

"What's the matter, Dean? Scared?" taunted Alastair.

Alastair then reached down with his free and placed it on Dean's inner thigh, causing the hunter to twitch. The fingers ran over his skin lightly, sending pleasure vibrations through him and Dean swore under his breath. He looked to Alastair, whose eyes were on him. Alastair then moved so quickly, it was a blur. Their lips were crushed together and Dean grunted in surprise. The demon's forceful tongue forced his lips apart and he went about assaulted his mouth with teeth and tongue. Feeling too disgusted to think, Dean thought of nothing until it was finally over.

"You know," said Alastair normally, as though nothing just happened. Beneath him, Dean was panting heavily. "When you became my student in Hell, I saw you like a son. Obedient, loyal; you did as you were told, followed my lead. Up here, it's a little different though. Your mind's focus is no longer mine."

This time, Dean didn't reply. Getting to his feet, Alastair walked to the end of the bed and stopped. He glanced at the wondrous sight before him. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth but it didn't progress. Instead, he moved again and walked around the bed a couple of times before stopping. The room remained quiet; all that could be heard was his booted footsteps as he walked.

"Getting soft on me, Dean?" the demon asked lightly, chuckling at the pun. He soon sat down beside Dean again. "Now, where were we?"

Never removing his eyes from Dean's, he gently moved his hand towards Dean's groin and reached under before ramming two fingers into the man's entrance. The reaction was immediate. Dean screamed and his whole body gave a convulsive jolt, arching off the bed. The expression on Dean's face showed pure agony. Pain throbbed throughout his body and he could already feel something warm trickle out of his body and onto the white sheets under him, staining it.

Hot tears ran down Dean's face as he looked to the ceiling, trying to pretend none of this was happening but the pain shooting through him was a constant reminder. Slowly, Alastair moved his fingers from Dean's body before steadily moving them back in and he repeated the pattern several times.

After several minutes, the sensation began to feel pleasurable and Dean hated himself for reacting. As the fingers hit the sensitive spot inside him, his cock gave an interested jerk. Alastair's eyes remained on his face as he continued his actions, as though they were the most normal thing in the world.

"There... isn't that nice, Dean."

"Fuck you," Dean muttered harshly, his breath coming out in pants.

Dean's member swelled to an impressive size it hardened but Alastair ignored it. The hunter's body arched up and he pressed the back of his head further into the pillow, as though trying to enjoy it but escape from it at the same time. Within minutes, Dean's self control flew out the window and all coherent thought left him as an orgasm shot through his body suddenly. Hot streaks of white liquid spurted onto Dean's belly, mixing with his blood.

Alastair removed his two fingers from Dean's body and placed them on the hunter's stomach and swirled the two liquids together. Dean briefly looked down but quickly shut his eyes and fell flat against the mattress. Vomit rose up his throat but he swallowed it quickly, leaving a burning sensation. More tears leaked out but they were ignored as the demon rose from the bed and wiped his fingers on his jeans.

"W-what are you doing?" panted Dean, worried about where Alastair was and what he was up to.

"Shh... calm yourself my pet," Alastair hushed. There was a pause before Alastair spoke again. "There were many things I wanted to do with you tonight but other things came up. Perhaps another time. How does that sound?"

The demon received no answer but he seemed to care less. Alastair approached Dean again and loomed over him. He stroked the hunter's cheek gently as he stared down at him. "Has this been a good reminder?"

The context was unclear but Dean knew exactly what he was talking about. "You don't own me."

"Yes, I do, Dean," retorted Alastair. "You belong to me and these..." Alastair ran a finger along the scars that were already starting to appear. "...prove it."

A loud and heavy scream suddenly bounced off the walls and echoed greatly through the entire building as Alastair plunged his knife into Dean's thigh. After a few seconds he removed the blade and repeated it on the other leg, causing another scream to echo. Dean's breaths caught in his throat and tears ran down his face rapidly.

Alastair took one step back and wiped the silver blade on his blue shirt, cleaning it thoroughly before pocketing it. Looking over Dean's stagnant form one more time, he smiled and the white demon eyes were shown once again as the hunter glanced up. With one long, slow blink Alastair was gone and the chains keeping Dean to the bed loosened and fell to the floor with heavy clanks.

But Dean couldn't move. As his heavy eye lids closed and things began to turn black, the familiar ringtone of his mobile rang out in the hollow room.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Nothing but silence filled the seemingly unusually small space of the Impala's interior. Dean shifted uncomfortably in the silence as they drove along a darkening empty stretch of highway, back to the crappy motel room they were staying at while in this town. The hunt was over and they would be leaving in the morning, which Dean was greatly looking forward to.

The spirit they just rid the town of was gone and Dean kept his thoughts upon it, not wanting to think of anything else. Before arriving here, it had literally killed several people to death by showing its face. Dean could understand why. When he saw the thing he felt his heart leap out of his chest, thinking it was going to burst.

Half way towards the motel, a sigh sounded from across the seat and Dean's jaw clenched, knowing what was coming. "Dean, we have to talk."

Dean nodded faintly. Yeah, just what he was expecting to hear. Keeping his eyes on the road, Dean answered. "No."

"Dude, it's been three weeks since ... whatever happened and you're still refusing to talk about it. Tell me what happened?"

"Nothing, Sam," said Dean in an authoritative tone.

"You were gone for almost a whole day and I blacked out," said Sam quickly. "It didn't happen for no reason."

"Let it go, Sam..."

"No," said Sam, interrupting. "I want to know what happened."

Dean licked his lips and kept his eyes on the road. Ever since the run in with Alastair, it's been difficult to think of anything else. Whenever he lay down he could feel the touch of Alastair's razor. The coolness of the blade against his flushed skin. Dean swallowed hard. His skin tingled at the thought of Alastair's hands on him and the reminder of his reaction to...

Dean abruptly cleared his throat and exhaled sharply. "I'm not talking about it, Sam. Drop it."

"You can't run from it," said Sam after a few quiet moments, glancing at his brother. "I don't know anything of what happened but it couldn't have been that good for you to shut everyone out."

"I'm doing no such thing-"

"You won't talk to me, you're ignoring Bobby, you won't even talk to Castiel when he comes around to see you. It's like nothing interests you anymore." There was a pause but Dean said nothing. The back his hand turned whiter as he gripped the wheel tightly. "At the bar the other night, there were at least five girls that wanted to take you home. You ignored every single one of them. All that seems to take your interest is killing things and alcohol."

"Alright, Sam, I get it," Dean muttered through gritted teeth.

"Do you?" asked Sam quickly. "Because from what I'm seeing, you've changed and not in a good way. You need to open up about this. It's killing you."

The tension between them grew considerably as silence filled the spaces of the car once again. Dean went quiet again and decided he'd had enough. He leaned forward quickly and turned the music right up, blasting it in their ears. For the rest of the journey back to the motel room, nothing but the music was heard but Dean still avoided Sam's eyes which were still on him.

When reaching the motel room, Dean jumped straight into the bathroom for a much needed shower and once he emerged he noticed Sam sitting on his bed, looking at him. Dean shook his head and went to his duffel bag for clean clothes. To his surprise, Sam said nothing and went into the bathroom. Quickly, Dean placed on a pair of black shorts and shirt before getting under the covers of his bed.

Lying on his back, he looked up at the faded yellowing ceiling. The hard mattress pressed into his back and after a few quiet moments he sighed deeply. It almost reminded him of the mattress he laid against when Alastair's hands roamed over his body and...

Mentally cursing himself Dean roughly turned over, hitting the pillow in an attempt to make it softer and let out some of his anger along with it. When the bathroom door reopened, Dean stilled and tried to control his breathing. There was a short pause before he heard movement against the worn carpet beside him.

He heard the bed beside his creak as Sam sat down upon it and before long the light went out and after only a few minutes, Dean heard Sam's breathing even out. He was asleep. Dean blinked through the darkness before rolling onto his back again. Somehow he had the feeling that tonight was going to be no different to the last previous nights.

* * *

"So, who's first?"

"My, my, aren't we eager."

The dark figure standing in the corner finally moved, joining the other in the centre of the reddened room. The human soul looked over the figure before it. It was black and almost indescribable. Black smoky mist formed a humanoid body but gaping holes where the eyes and mouth should have been. As it grew taller, the green human eyes followed it.

"I'm ready." Dean Winchester spoke firmly and stood his ground against the demon he faced. The demon laughed which made Dean's jaw clench. "I am ready."

"Uh-ah," whispered Alastair. "You are only ready when I say you are. Besides, what's the rush? I only took you off the rack a couple days ago," Alastair added, his voice quickening in excitement. "I think you still need a little teaching from me."

"What kind of teaching?"

A sharp cry flew from Dean's mouth as the clothes covering him were ripped from his body, exposing the flesh to the heat in the room which was rising rapidly. The four walls closed in rapidly but Dean didn't flinch. It was something he had seen happen many times. Before his eyes, the red walls hissed with heat and bubbled heavy, an odd red liquid oozing down before hitting the ground and spreading across the floor.

For a moment, Dean watched the substance wearily. Silently, Alastair stepped closer to him and placed a smoky hand upon his chest, pushing him back. But just before he hit the wall, Alastair stopped, his black figure hovering around him menacingly.

"Do you remember this room, Dean?"

"Yes," the hunter replied tightly.

It had never changed. It was just a small, square room with four walls and no visible doors to speak of. Put simply, it was a training room for people who requested to be taken off the rack. There were many other 'rooms' in Hell too but Dean was sure he hadn't yet seen even half of them. The worst of them so far had been the one that surprised him the most. It was a cold room, like a freezer with nothing but a frozen lake of blood. It was a guilt room of sorts.

"Do you know what I want to teach you?"

Dean glanced around for a second before looking back at the demon and shaking his head. "No," he said quietly.

"I want to teach you what you should do when a new soul comes in from above," the demon informed. "But first you have to experience it."

"I already have," said Dean loudly.

"Yes, but that was almost thirty years ago," said Alastair, the gaping hole of his mouth forming into a wide smile, showing its razor sharp, pointed teeth. "You need a refresher course, I think."

A heavy scream echoed off the four walls as Dean was pushed backwards. The smell hit the air instantly, making the room stink of burnt human flesh as it melted off Dean's back. Sweat seeped thickly from Dean's pores, covering him in seconds, mixing with the blood that travelled down the backs of his legs.

"I will say this, Dean, I will miss ripping the skin off your bones but I suppose I will have the pleasure of overseeing your clients." The hunter before him didn't respond and didn't look up, forcing Alastair to move his head upwards. "I want you to focus Dean. Remember, you can't die here. Just enjoy this last minute of pain I'm giving you and if you manage to please me, I'll give you something you've been craving. How does that sound?"

Locking eyes with the demon, Dean nodded. "I'll try..." One look from Alastair made Dean change his mind. "I will."

"Good, pet," said Alastair, stroking down Dean's flawless chest with the blade of his razor. Without hesitating any longer, Alastair started, loving the way Dean managed to hold most of his screams inward and not let them be known. The first few cuts went around his chest before he sliced most of the skin off before moving to the arms and doing the same.

In Dean's silence, despite the pain, hot tears rolled down his face and dropped down into the wounds below, making them sting further. When finally, Alastair dropped his razor, he looked at his handy work. Dean no longer cared and rested against the back wall, ignoring the flaming it caused around the rest of his body. But before he knew it Dean was lying in the middle of the room, back in one piece.

It took a moment but the hunter eventually moved, standing once again. The walls returned to normal as did the temperature throughout the room. Dean was hauled to his feet and pushed against the wall again, naked. As Alastair moved closer than he ever had before, Dean held his breath. Was the demon really going to do this?

Suddenly, a bout of warm breath floated against his neck and the ghost of a hand brushed against his groin. A groan instantly left Dean's lips and Alastair smiled against the hunter, pressing into his body further.

"You've wanted this from me for a while now, haven't you?" Alastair asked in a low tone.

"Y-yes..." the hunter choked out.

"I love that despite what I've put you through, you still come back to me. I hope it'll always be this way, no matter what happens." The demon paused, looking over Dean's facial expressions changed from pleasure to desperation within seconds. "Tomorrow you start torturing under my watch," he whispered. "I hope you make me proud."

The hunter groaned desperately, trying to deepen the touch which Alastair eventually gave him. Dean's hips bucked at the contact and his flesh grew hard. The demons ministrations continued until finally, his orgasm hit him hard, making him call out the demons name in his pleasure.

* * *

A strangled cry echoed the small motel room as Dean bolted upright in his bed, drenched in a cold sweat. Movement sound from the bed next to him but Dean blinked rapidly, noticing nothing. As the faint outline of everything in the motel room became visible, he moved to the end of the bed. Instantly, he looked down and sighed at the hardness making itself known in his shorts.

"Dean...? What's s'up?"

Dean nodded, mostly for his own benefit. "Nothing, Sammy, go back to sleep."

When his brother's tall frame lay back down, Dean ran into the bathroom in record time and slammed the door shut harder than intended and leaned against it. Turning the shower on, he stripped the clothes off his heated body and stepped under the cold water, hissing through his teeth at the feel of it.

Gradually, Dean leaned forwards, resting his head against the cool white tiles and breathing deeply as the cold water ran down and over his back. But it wasn't working. His hardness was still present which had never worked in a cold shower before and Dean moved quickly, placing one arm above where his forehead rested.

"Screw it," Dean muttered, roughly taking hold of his already leaking cock.

Dean stroked himself quickly, wanting it to be over. It was embarrassing enough even though he was alone. It wasn't long before Dean's mind changed from the girls he normally thought about to Alastair. The demon's image burned in his mind as he continued stroking his length. Thinking of all those times Alastair touched him made Dean's cheeks burn with humiliation but he still continued and once his orgasm hit, the whisper of Alastair's name escaped him.

* * *

When the morning light of a new day seeped through the room inch by inch there was suddenly an unexpected guest in the small motel room. The angel looked between the two figures in their respective beds. Both were sleeping and looked at peace. He was glad they both appeared unharmed which made his tense shoulders relax slightly. Walking to the window slowly, he stopped and glanced outside. At the moment it was still and quiet.

After a few minutes one of the figures moved, the rustling from the bed becoming obvious and it wasn't long before it stopped again. "Cas, what the hell are you doing here?"

The angel turned on the spot and glanced at the hunter. Slowly, his head turned to the side and frown faintly appeared between his brows. It was clear to Dean that he was confused about something but he wasn't really in the mood for the angel's questions. Sitting up roughly, Dean pulled the pillow out from under his head and sat it on his lap before placing both arms over it.

"Is there something you need?" asked Dean impatiently when the angel said nothing, swinging his legs over the bed and placing the pillow beside him.

Castiel's eyes watched as Dean stood up from the bed and went to his duffel bag and began to search the piles of unfolded clothes inside.

"I've come for your assistance."

Those words made Dean stop and looked at the angel again. "By 'your' you mean our assistance, as in both of us?" Dean asked, pointing to himself and his brother.

"Yes."

Dean nodded faintly before grabbing hold of the pillow on his bed and throwing it towards his brother who stirred immediately. "Wake up, Sam," Dean said gruffly.

Gradually, the younger hunter came around and when spotting Castiel, he bolted upright as though being caught doing something he shouldn't.

"Alright, we're both awake. What do you want?"

Sam frowned sleepily at his brother. Never before had he heard Dean speak so abruptly to the angel. But the older hunter ignored the looks and impatiently gestured for Castiel to get to the reason why he decided to disturb there sleep. Dean failed to see anything that would be so important or urgent.

"I need to help a couple of angels but I cannot go myself."

"Won't we be killed or something?" asked Sam quickly.

"No," said Castiel instantly. "They know I'm attempting to help them but I can't go myself."

"Why?" asked Dean roughly. Castiel's hard blue eyes landed on him again and a sigh of annoyance left him. "Why, Cas?" he asked again, in a forced, lighter tone.

"Because I'm being watched," the angel replied. "Zachariah doesn't know exactly where I am but he's getting closer and I must leave before he finds you as well. There shouldn't be anything to stop you reaching them."

"Where are they?" asked Sam, getting up off the bed.

Castiel turned to him. "Three twenty one Industrial way," the angel said before vanishing.

"God I hate it when he does that," Dean muttered before going back to his clothes and getting changed.

"He's risked a lot for us so far," said Sam quietly. "We should help him."

"I'm not saying we shouldn't," Dean retorted. "I'm just saying that he should be a little more open with us if he expects anything."

"I could say the same about you..."

The words were so quiet that Dean barely heard it. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing," Sam muttered, disappearing into the bathroom.

Dean shook his head and finished changing before grabbing the keys to the Impala and waiting for Sam to join him.

As Dean drove down a dirt road lined with industrial buildings, he slowed down and frowned as he looked out the windows. Every building they could see was no longer standing and something that looked like dust blew from most of the windows and in one he could see a thick white smoke that billowed up into the sky before evaporating.

"I think we should get out and have a look."

With a single nod, Dean agreed and pulled the car to one side and they both hopped out and grabbed their weapons from the trunk. Moving back onto the road they continued up the road with weapons firmly in hand. They walked side by side and checked each building as they passed them.

"Do you think it's been like this long?"

Dean shrugged but he didn't answer verbally. Sam glanced in his direction and he knowingly avoided his brother eye. He wasn't in the mood for this. He just wanted this to be over with. As they approached the building Castiel had told them of, they slowed in their walking. It was the building they had seen with the white billowing smoke which was still pouring from the windows thickly.

They exchanged glances. "Do you think it's safe?"

Again, Dean shrugged but this time he said something. "I hope so."

Dean entered the building first, pushing the door out of the way which fell flat in the hallway. Sam cringed slightly at the noise, hoping it didn't bring any unwelcome attention their way. Dean waited as well before moving stealthy inside, Sam not far behind him. The white smoke instantly blinded them to everything, causing them to squint heavily, in order to see something.

"Sam, see anything?"

"No," he called back. "You?" He was met with sudden silence. "Dean?" There was still no reply. "Dean!?"

Gradually, the white smoke clouding the room faded and eventually was no longer present, as though it had never been there. Sam raised his gun quickly at recognising the small group of people he faced but stopped when realising that they hadn't noticed him. Confusion became present across his face as he slowly lowered his gun. Dean was standing with them talking to a tall man who he knew to be Alastair.

After watching in silence, Sam couldn't take it any longer. He moved out into the open and closer to the group, raising his weapon again. "Dean! What's going on?"

"Get rid of him," said Alastair, his white demon eyes coming out.

The four men surrounding him moved around Dean and towards him. Shots rang through the air, hitting a couple demons but it did them no harm. The gun was knocked from his hand and he was dragged from the room by his arms.

"Dean!" he yelled loudly, his voice echoing. "What are you doing? Dean!"

Dean hung his head at the words but didn't reply. It was like his voice wasn't functioning right at the moment. A chuckle sounded from Alastair which made him look up at the now human looking eyes that bore into his.

"What's the matter, Dean?" he asked, moving closer, looking down into the hunter's face. "Missed me already?"

"We thought some angels would be here..." Dean started feebly but stopped when Alastair chuckled again.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about them," whispered Alastair. "Those angels have returned home. Tell Castiel that his brothers are back to where they should be and that next time they should obey their orders."

"You son of a-"

"Ah-uh, Dean," said the demon, waving a finger at him. "Don't say something you can't take back. Now, let's play nice, shall we? I haven't harmed you yet."

"But you'd like to..."

"Oh, yes, I would but now isn't the time," said Alastair quickly. "You need to return to the little angel on your shoulder and report back. Then we'll see about us having a little fun..." the demon stroked the hunter's arm almost lovingly. "...how does that sound?"

Dean's jaw clenched tightly but he managed a sarcastic smile. "Sounds great."

"That's my good little pet," the demon chuckled.

As he blinked, Alastair was gone and Dean looked around wildly before running outside, finding Sam lying beside his car, seemingly unconscious. When reaching Sam's side, he knelt down and shook Sam's shoulders roughly.

"Sam!"

"We need to talk, Dean..."

A relieved sigh escaped from Dean's mouth sharply. The words went ignored as Dean helped his brother up and into the car. They had to get out of there and fast before Alastair changed his mind.

* * *

"Back home...?"

"I'm sorry, Cas," the hunter said quietly.

Castiel turned to finally face Dean, shock and sadness etched in the lines on his face. The angel looked between the floor and Dean a few times, attempting to say something but nothing came out. He watched as Dean walked to the window and pulled the curtains back to look outside. It was dark and he watched as the moonlight bounced brightly off his car and the trees swayed lightly with the slight breeze.

Dean sighed heavily. "I wonder if it's going to rain," the hunter mused to himself.

Castiel focused on him again. "When you will discuss what happened with Alastair and the dreams you've been having?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dean dismissed.

"Dean-"

"This isn't up for discussion, Cas," said Dean firmly, locking eyes with the angel. "Nothing happened and even if it did, it's got nothing to do with you."

The angel hesitated for a brief moment. "I... Just want to make sure you're alright," the angel whispered, his voice barely audible.

"I appreciate that, Cas," said Dean with a slight sarcastic undertone. "But I don't need a shoulder to cry on, alright?"

"If you need me..."

The sentence was left hanging in the air and Dean knew what the angel had meant to say. He nodded faintly but it was pointless. Castiel was gone. Taking note of the time, Dean sighed heavily and changed for bed. Sam was going to be back from the pharmacy soon and he didn't want to be awake when he did.

* * *

A/N: Not quite how I pictured chapter two but it will do for the part I wanted to get to which are the next parts. Oh, if there's any confusion, the second scene is a dream/nightmare of Dean in Hell.


	3. Chapter 3

Warning: Contains rape. Don't like, don't read.

* * *

Chapter Three

The screams pierced through the fiery flames that surrounded them, failing to interrupt the two figures that stood nearby. One stood in the background, against the blood red wall, leaning casually, a small smile flickering over his smoky features while the other worked, sharp razor in hand.

An indifferent, impassive look was etched into the face of the other who looked relatively human, except for the dark, soulless eyes. The silver razor in his hands glided over her skin effortlessly, marking it with each swift stroke. The pure soul's continuous screams made no difference in what was occurring. The blinding white light of the body slowly darkened as its blood poured down over it, eventually covering from head to toe.

When the razor was finally dropped, it hit the floor with a dull thud and the one torturing turned his head, almost curiously, to admire and take in his handy work. The soul before him was no longer recognisable and all sounds from it had finally ceased. He got to his feet and stood tall, looking over the corpse once again before stepping back, bowing his head faintly.

The figure standing in the corner finally moved to stand beside the torturer. A wide smile formed on its smoky face, showing its razor sharp teeth. The hunter turned his head again and watched as the demon looked over his work, wondering if he was going to be impressed or not. The latter was not something he wished for.

"A good first try, Dean," the demon said, black smoke billowing from his orifice as it spoke, turning to look beside it. "But you have much to learn." The demon stroke the hunter's chin almost affectionately before glancing back down at the metal slab which now rested against the red wall. "Surely you can do better."

Dean knew what this meant. He had to give it another try. Slowly, he nodded, showing that he was indeed going to do as asked. Ignoring the razor that still lay near his feet; the hunter moved towards the female soul on the slab, which was back in recognisable form, her body seemingly clean and untouched. Roughly, he pulled her up and with much force he pushed her against the wall to his left just as it began to bubble and hiss.

Screams of agony were ripped from her mouth as her body convulsed violently, the flesh from her back melting and pooling around her feet. The first smile in years tugged at Dean's mouth as he watched her. Quickly realising that it was her agony that satisfied him, he wasted no time picking up the razor and stabbing her in the arm. More screams left her but Dean continued, unfazed, stabbing her again.

When the sobbing quietened a little, Dean stepped back momentarily. "Losing feeling in your arm? Perhaps I should move to the other one."

A barely audible whisper reached Dean's ears. "Please..."

Dean stepped closer, putting his ear near to her mouth, wondering if he heard correctly. "Are... are you begging me?" asked Dean, amused.

The female soul nodded, her head scarcely moving. "Please..."

"You can do better," hissed Dean in a vicious tone, his eyes darkening further.

A sharp breath exited the soul's body and she slumped against the wall but before she could burn much more Dean hauled her up and placed her back onto the metal slab, laying it flat upon the ground. As the cold metal pressed against the hot burnt tissue of her back, she whimpered, shivering violently. A look of faint amusement made itself known upon Dean's face, lighting it up softly.

Kneeling beside her, razor in hand hovering it against her chest, just below her neck, he spoke. "Should I slice you open and see what's in there?"

The soul shook her head but Dean didn't notice. Instead, he changed his mind, stabbing the unmarked arm several times before stopping, panting faintly. Dean looked to the souls face. It was splattered with its own blood and the eyes were wide and fearful, tears leaking from the sides, disappearing into its hair.

Dean's head turned faintly at the current sight of her. His eyes narrowed as he bent closer, noticing her lips moving but the words were unintelligible. Slowly, Dean moved closer to her and eventually the words were audible.

"Thus that which is the most awful of evils, death, is nothing to us, since when we exist there is no death, and when there is death we do not exist..." A cool jolt travelled through Dean's spine at the chilling, whispered words which were repeated over and over. "Thus that which is the most awful of evils, death, is nothing to us, since when we exist there is no death, and when there is death we do not exist..."

"Ignore the words, Dean."

The hunter's jaw visibly clenched as he swallowed hard. Returning to the event at hand Dean remembered himself and placed the tip of the razor against her chest before roughly slicing all the way down, spilling blood to the sides which steadily dripped onto the already horrid floor. The girl was silent which made Dean's anger rise. The razor suddenly hit the floor amongst the blood and Dean shoved a hand into the soul's body, mixing with the organs.

A sudden shout of horror escaped the soul's darkening lips as the squishing sounds reached her ears. Not even a few moments went by before she began to whimper and writhe on the table, hoping that her squirming actions would make him stop. It didn't. As Dean moved his way through and around her organs, he finally reached her heart and wrapped his hand around it. As the fingers squeezed slightly, the soul spoke again, her voice high and piercing.

"Do as the heavens have done, forget your evil; with them forgive yourself."

From the anger those words caused, if it had been a cartoon, Dean would have turned red and steam would have burst from his ears but instead, Dean did the next best thing he could think of. He squeezed his fingers around the heart tightly and he waited until feeling the squishy pops before yanking it from the body.

Once the heart was free and steady in his hand, Dean floated it in front of the soul's eyes which were glazing over but he knew she wasn't going to die. You can't die in Hell. Here, you're already dead. Only seconds later, Dean shuddered as he felt a presence behind him. He already knew it was Alastair but he still cowered and bowed his body nonetheless. It only made him feel further disappointment with himself.

"Lick it," the demon whispered in his ear.

A cold chill ran through Dean's spine. He looked behind him questioning at the demon but he didn't argue and didn't offer his comment which was quickly rising to the surface. Instead, he did just as Alastair wanted. He brought the heart to his lips and slowly his tongue poked out from his mouth and he licked up the full length of the bloody heart.

The demon chuckled in pure amusement. "Now, drop it and step on it, crushing it into the floor."

Those orders made Dean stop cold in his actions. His eyes widen considerably as he looked at the demon who continued to leer at him. Dean opened his mouth to say something but quickly changed his mind as a flash of anger swept across the demons face. Eventually, the hunter nodded and dropped the heart to the ground, wiping his hand on his pants before exhaling heavily and stepping on the heart.

Blood and tissue spurted in all directions. Dean felt his own heart clench tightly in his chest, almost as though his actions had caused his own to burst within the confines of his skin. The demon moved to stand in front of him and stroked his face.

"You did well, pet," he whispered. "Would you like a treat?"

Dean's mouth literally watered at those words. He nodded and Alastair wasted no time in giving Dean exactly what he wanted.

* * *

A stifled whimper sounded in the small motel room but this time, it didn't disturb his brother in the bed beside him. Dean wiped the sweat off his forehead and looked down. It was no different than the other day; drenched in another cold sweat and hard as hell.

Swearing under his breath, Dean quietly got off the bed and dressed into his jeans, not bothering to do them up and put on a loose shirt. Before leaving the room he grabbed a few last things and went to the front desk. After ringing the bell impatiently for the tenth time, the dishevelled man who ran the joint came around and leaned heavily on the desk, his eyes barely open.

"What?"

"Tell me you have another room," said Dean quickly.

"Another?"

"I'll pay double," said Dean instantly at the man's questioning look.

"I have one, it has a double bed though-"

"Perfect," said Dean hastily and a little louder than intended. He fished out his wallet and put the money on the desk before grabbing the key and practically sprinting towards the door. He unlocked it quickly and pushed the door open. Slamming it shut, he threw the key onto the rickety table and looked up towards the ceiling.

"Cas!?" he called loudly.

Sighing heavily, Dean sat down upon the bed and held his head in his hands, wondering if he was about to commit the ultimate sin. He knew there wasn't anything worse than what he had already done but against a soldier of Heaven... this had to be right up there and as he sighed again, Dean knew this alone would probably be enough to send him back to Hell right now.

"You called?"

Dean jumped and looked up. In the corner, beside the door stood Castiel, dressed in his usual attire. Dean got back to his feet and looked the angel over before pacing the room silently, still unsure of whether this course of action was unwise. He did have another idea in mind, but he wasn't ready to stoop that low yet.

"You said if there was anything I needed..." Dean trailed off and turned to face the angel. "Did you mean that?"

"Of course," replied the angel in his usual gruff tone.

Nodding slowly, Dean approached the angel, whose eyes watched his every movement intensely, making him feel a little nervous. Stopping directly in front of Castiel, Dean looked down at him and he had to ask again.

"Are you sure that... anything at all... anything?"

"Yes," replied Castiel. "You are in my charge, Dean. I'm supposed to help you in any way I can."

"Why were you running from Zachariah the other day then?" asked Dean quickly.

"I wasn't at my post," the angel replied quietly, looking down guiltily. "But it's been settled."

"Good," the hunter whispered before pulling pouncing towards Castiel, yanking the trench coat from his body and discarding it upon the floor. The angel instantly showed surprise, the blue eyes wide.

"Dean, what are you doing?" he asked as the hunter walked behind him and pulled of his blazer and disposing of it in the same manner as the trench coat.

Dean appeared to have no patience or time to explain. "You said you'd help," he replied vaguely.

Once the tie and white shirt lay abandoned on the floor, Dean walked back into Castiel's view and yanked at the belt before unzipping the pants and pushing them down. Not bothering to take the pants off completely or the shoes, he roughly pulled Castiel to the bed and pushed him onto his stomach, his legs dangling uselessly off the bed.

Dean paused, breathing hard. It was obvious Castiel was letting this happen but... why? He was an angel. Was he really going to let this happen just because he was in his charge? Dean kicked himself mentally and removed his clothes hastily, throwing them into the pile along with Castiel's.

Dean paused again, taking a moment to look down at the pale white skin lying there, open on the bed for him. A strangled moan sounded in Dean's throat as he felt his manhood swell further if it were possible. Taking himself in hand, Dean stroked up his length roughly, spreading the pre-come which had gathered at the slit.

Grabbing a pillow from the bed, he placed it underneath Castiel's body, propping him up for better access before gently rubbing the angel's behind, squeezing it. It was soft and firm and made Dean growl menacingly. He couldn't wait another second. Pushing Castiel's cheeks apart, he slammed into the man's unprepared body, causing the angel to scream and buck into the pillow.

Dean moaned heavily, knowing he had just caused the man beneath him great pain which was nothing but a turn on. Choked sounds coming from under him reached his ears but Dean's rhythm wasn't interrupted as he pounded into Castiel harder, making the sounds louder. But they competed with Dean's moan and growls which were close to animalistic in nature.

Leaning down across Castiel's back, Dean ground into him deeper, temporarily enjoying the feel of the body beneath his; the body that felt incredibly soft and warm and...

The hunter trailed off, moaning, suddenly thrusting harder as he felt his release rising quickly. Slamming home one last time, he came over the edge spilling into Castiel's body.

"Alastair..."

The audible whispered moan was barely heard but the angel beneath him stilled and held his breath at the shock but Dean noticed nothing as he slumped against Castiel, panting irregularly. The room turned eerily silent as Dean's eyes closed, briefly forgetting all of his worries and scarcely noticing the continued almost silent choked sobs beneath him.

* * *

The phone rang out and Sam sighed heavily, pacing around the cramped space of the motel room. For the fifth time, he glanced at his phone and redialled Dean's number. Placing it to his ear and taking in a deep breath and held it, praying under his breath for Dean to answer. But just like all the other times, it rang out.

"Damn it," Sam hissed.

Quickly he placed his arm down by his side. He glanced around the room, feeling jittery at not knowing what to do but quickly it came to him. Bringing his phone back up, Sam dialled a new number and found himself still hoping for an answer.

"Hello?" said a gruff voice.

"Hey, Bobby, it's Sam," he said quickly, unable to keep the fear from his voice.

At the other end it was noticed and the older hunter instantly asked, "Sam, what's happened?"

"It's Dean," he replied. "When I woke up this morning he was gone and he's not answering his phone and he's been acting weird the last few weeks."

"Weird how?" asked Bobby quietly, concern coating his voice.

Sam sighed again, not quite sure where to start. "Well, a few weeks ago he disappeared and when he returned he refused to talk about it and since then we've seen Alastair and he was different then too, like he didn't mind the demon's presence or something. I just... I don't know what to do."

"Alright, son, just relax," said Bobby calmly, thinking it through for a moment. "Why didn't you call me earlier?"

Sam shrugged although he knew Bobby couldn't see it. "I don't know. I guess I figured Dean would work it out himself like he does with most things or that he'd say something if it became too much." There was a short pause. "I don't know what to do, Bobby."

"Let's find him," said Bobby almost straight away. "Tell me where you are and I'll help you search."

Sam quickly found the address before hanging up and leaving to conduct his own search while Bobby made his way here.

* * *

A few hours later, Sam returned to the motel room and hastily threw the keys to the hired car on the table. He had hoped he knew Dean better than this. Normally, he would have been able to find him by now or at least have some clue as to where he's got to but not this time. All he seemed to be getting was a whole lot of nothing.

Feeling useless, Sam paced around the room, stopping at the window every so often to glance out, faintly hoping he'd see the Impala pulling into the parking lot but each time, Sam just felt the same feelings of disappointment wash over him again. Moving away from the window for what felt like the hundredth time, Sam made his way into the small kitchen area and reached into the fridge for a beer. It seemed like a good option.

But upon turning around, Sam jumped in his skin as there was a figure sitting on the bed, looking at the floor, seemingly deep in thought. A loud thud echoed the room as Sam forcibly placed the bottle on the counter and took a few steps forwards but the angel still didn't look up. He placed a hand over his mouth, resting on it and continued to stare at nothing.

"Castiel?" he asked a little unsurely. "Is everything alright?"

"No," the angel replied vaguely.

"Do you know where Dean is?" asked Sam quickly, feeling as though time were running out.

"Yes," was the next vague reply.

"Where is he, Cas?" asked Sam roughly and a little louder than he intended. But noticing the look that grazed Castiel's features, his own contorted into worry. Had something terrible happened without anyone being the wiser? "Castiel... what's happened?"

The angel's wide, innocent looking blue eyes finally looked up and met Sam's hazel ones. He almost wished he could tell him everything with nothing more than a simple look but it wasn't that easy. He was unsure of whether to start at the beginning or just at the end.

"He's with Alastair." The voice was quiet and the tone difficult to decipher. "Or at least, he will be."

Sam's face went from a look of surprise to one of terror. Stepping towards Castiel gently, he looked the angel up and down slightly before finding any words to say with any coherence. "How do you know this? What happened?"

"I saw Dean last night," said Castiel quietly, his voice barely audible. "He..."

"He what, Cas?" asked Sam impatiently, trying to hurry this along but suddenly, Sam stopped for a moment, noticing the same broken look upon the angel's face that made him wonder if something bad actually did occur. "What did he do?"

"Dean's been having nightmares about Hell..."

"That's not something new," said Sam interrupting.

"Perhaps not," Castiel agreed, removing the hand from his mouth. "But the urges resulting from them are."

"What urges?" asked Sam, worry hitting his voice.

Castiel sighed heavily. Only then did Sam see the heavy lines in Castiel's face, looking as though he hadn't slept in days but knowing that he didn't sleep made Sam feel sure that something was definitely wrong.

"After each nightmare Dean finds himself having urges of a... sexual nature and he needs to fulfil them with something."

"How long have you know about this?"

"Since last night," the angel admitted.

"And what happened last night?" asked Sam, taking a seat on the bed beside the one Castiel occupied.

Castiel's eyes went back to the floor and he stared, barely blinking. "The first time it happened, he took care of it himself but last night, he used me to help him."

"Are you saying that Dean... raped you?"

The angel's silence told Sam all he needed to know, making him swear under his breath and get to his feet, pacing as it seemed to help. Exhaling sharply, Sam ran both hands over his face vigorously and tried to get his mind focused on finding Dean before he reached the demon.

"Alright, let's go back," said Sam, making his voice calm. "Where exactly is Dean going?"

"To Alastair, I told you," said Castiel, looking up, slight confusion hitting his features.

"Okay, I understand that, but why is he going to Alastair?"

"Dean believes the only way to cure himself of what's happening is to seek the demon out who started it all."

Many questions filled Sam's mind and he felt panic rush through him as time definitely felt like it running out. "Alright... go back a little further," said Sam, leaning against the kitchen bench and looking at Castiel. "How did this start? What did Alastair do?"

It wasn't his place but Castiel saw no other option open to him. "As grand torturer of Hell, Alastair gets first pick of all new souls that enter. Of course, he was one of many who wanted Dean's soul and he took it without any hesitation. Alastair uses what he can to get what he wants. For reasons that remain unknown, Alastair has an ... obsession of sorts towards Dean."

"You mean he wants Dean?" asked Sam uncertainly.

"No, he doesn't care about Dean," said Castiel quickly, his voice turning gruff for a second. "He's a demon, he cares for nothing but death and torture but in a way Alastair sees himself in Dean. He wants Dean to want him. He needs it, feeds off it. And unfortunately, Dean craves what only Alastair can give him."

"Dean wouldn't go to a demon for anything," said Sam quickly. "I know him better than that."

"Do you?" asked the angel quietly, his eyes staring at him accusingly. "Sam, Dean is desperate and running out of options."

The room turned silent as Sam grabbed hold of his beer bottle and took a large swig of it, thinking his own options through. "Well... what's really the worst Alastair could do? Rape Dean?" asked Sam slowly.

"No," the angel replied gravely. "He could become like you."

"What do you mean like me?" asked Sam, putting the bottle back down, giving the angel a confused, almost innocent look which both knew wasn't genuine.

"Alastair could the ultimate thing to Dean to get him to submit and depend on him completely."

"What thing?" pressed Sam impatiently.

"Feed him his blood."

At those four words Sam's blood turned cold. His face slackened and he walked towards Castiel who still sat on the bed, unmoving. "Take me to Dean."

"I- I can't," the angel stuttered.

Quickly, Sam realised the reason for why he thought he couldn't and instantly he picked up the keys for the rental and wrenched the motel door open. "Where is he going?"

"Rockville, Maryland but Sam, you won't reach him in time."

"Yes, I will," the young hunter replied firmly. "Get to Bobby and give him the address. Tell him I'm on my way there."

Guilt racked through Castiel's body as he watched Sam sprint from the room and into the silver car. As he pulled out of the parking lot and disappeared, Castiel buried his face in his hands, feeling broken and defeated. The human in his charge was about to fall because of him, because he couldn't face the truth of what transpired between them.

After several silent moments had passed, Castiel finally got to his feet and looked around, briefly glancing at the bed which had been Dean's. He swallowed hard and managed to make himself look away. Remembering Sam's words, the angel closed the door and locked it without touching it and vanished into thin air.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

The confines of the tranquil, isolated motel that sat on a dark and lonely highway was empty except for one room which was in complete darkness, not even the moon's light could penetrate through. The sound proofed room was currently filled with the sounds of desperate panting, as though the person couldn't get enough air. He knelt naked upon the carpeted floor, a sheen of cold sweat covering him from head to toe, making him shiver with the coldness of the room. With his head bowed, Dean kept his eyes on a patch of fading grey carpet nearby and waited with baited breath once everything seemed to calm down.

Dean's mind was filled with nothing. Emptiness was the only thing haunting him beside the demon somewhere near him in the darkness. Minutes had already passed and Alastair had not yet said a word to him. Upon arrival, Dean was let into the room by someone he couldn't see, stripped and made to kneel.

As a noise sounded close by, Dean swallowed hard, almost feeling his heart in his throat. Nothing came of the sound and Dean let out desperate whimper which shamed him to no end. He never thought it would come to this; him, begging for the demon to take him back, to forgive him for ever leaving.

"Please..."

A crude and amused chuckle reached him, making his eyes close tightly. It sent a bout of anger coursing through his veins but he managed to keep his opinions to himself, which was difficult. A shock gasp left Dean's mouth and his eyes widened considerably as something grabbed his chin tightly, turning his head forcibly.

Noticing that his eyes had adjusted, hate flooded the depths of his green orbs as they locked onto dark blue ones filled with sadistic abhorrence. Belonging to Alastair, they couldn't possible show anything else. As best he could, Dean contorted his face into disgust as he looked up at the demon, not daring to break the contact.

"Do not close your eyes," the demon breathed, warm breath hitting the hunter's face.

Gritting his teeth together tightly, Dean eventually nodded but refrained from saying anything. The vessel the demon used stood tall, his slender body being shown easily through the tight blue jeans and loose light blue shirt which was tucked in and buttoned up the full way.

"I think we should have a little talk, Dean. Don't you agree?" the demon asked, disappearing into the darkness again.

"Why not just get on with it?" asked Dean impatiently, words coming out in a harsh whisper.

"Oh no, Dean," the demon whispered. "No, no, no, no, no, we mustn't do that."

"Why?"

"It would spoil all my fun," the demon answered. "And you wouldn't want to do that would you?" Alastair didn't give Dean enough time to respond before continuing. "Because you know what Dean? I've been waiting for the day that you come to me, begging, begging me to take you and now, finally, here it is. I'm going to take full opportunity of this and watch you come undone."

"You sick bastard..."

"Uh-uh Dean," the demon said lightly. "Don't say something that could be applied to yourself as well."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Another laugh reached him, causing bumps to line his arms evenly. "Really?" the demon asked, clearly amused. "You've brought yourself off, thinking of me; you've disgraced an angel by touching him, all the while thinking of me; and now you've come here, gotten down on your knees, willingly, and waited for me to start things off." There was a short pause. "How am I doing so far?"

"Shove it up your ass, Alastair-"

A loud smack echoed through the room as the demon backhanded Dean across the face, knocking him to the side on the ground. Alastair ventured close to Dean, looming over him and looking down, a unreadable look sheathing his face.

"Get up," the demon ordered. Dean didn't move prompting Alastair to kick him in the ribs. "Get up!"

Inwardly, Dean groaned and did as he was told. He pulled himself back to his knees and bowed his head again. His breathing slowly went back to normal and Alastair moved away from him. This time, being able to see a little in the dark, Dean followed the demon's movements. He watched as Alastair walked to a bureau and pull out something he didn't immediately recognise until it was brought right before his eyes.

A lump formed in Dean's throat and he swallowed hard. It was a heretic's fork. Dean breathed heavily as the device was placed around his neck and the four sharp points rammed deep into his flesh under the chin and into the bone of the sternum. Dean found it prevented him from all movements with his head and he knew he would only be allowed to whisper, if barely that if he needed to speak.

"How does that feel, my pet?"

Timidly, Dean licked his lips before speaking, his voice barely audible. "Hurts..."

Alastair chuckled before walking away again to the drawers opening it and pulling out something that instantly caught Dean's eye. It was a silver razor, Alastair's favourite blade. The same one he carried everywhere with him. Alastair approached and Dean felt himself holding most of his breaths.

"Well, my pet, I can't have you moving too much while I decorate you," he said steadily. "And this device ensures that you don't move and if you do, well, let's just say it might be messy." Alastair knelt in front of Dean and still looked down at him. "Do you think you can behave, just for a little while?"

Dean said nothing but he felt more hatred run through him as Alastair spoke to him as though he were a child who had been naughty. Looking straight ahead, as though seeing through the demon, Dean stayed still as Alastair ran a hand down his chest, outlining the scars that still remained, the main one being a cross. Alastair caressed it almost lovingly before moving to the single scars on each side which Alastair had placed to feel his insides.

Suddenly, Dean flinched as the razor touched against his neck, making the four sharp ends against him pierce the skin lightly. Small drops of blood ran down his skin and Dean shivered as they tickled him lightly. The demon before him smiled faintly, his eyes twinkling in delight, knowing that there was much more to come.

"Wanna make a deal, Dean?" asked Alastair, his tone playful. Dean swallowed at those words, making the demon laugh breathily. "Not one of those deals," he clarified. "How about, if you satisfy me tonight I'll heal you of all the scars marking your body. If not, then I'll give you some more to keep."

"Deal," said Dean instantly.

Curling his fingers around Dean's neck, Alastair brought him forwards and crushed their lips together. Dean groaned as the pokes marked him further, feeling as though they were digging in way too far but the demon ignored them. When Alastair broke the kiss, he stroked Dean's cheek gently, watching as the hunter once again looked straight ahead, focused on nothing.

"I will enjoy having another opportunity to mark you as mine," the demon purred.

The hunter said nothing and didn't move, he just continued to stare. A noise of something close to approval sounded in Alastair's throat. Not taking his eyes off Dean's, Alastair moved the blade across Dean's chest, creating many lines along the flesh and he continued all the way up until he reached just below the sharp points still sticking into him. Alastair took a moment to himself and watched as more blood dripped down Dean's body before he got to his feet and leaned over to gently remove the heretic's fork from around his neck.

Once it was gone, a sharp breath flew from the hunter's mouth and he hung his head in relief, ignoring the searing pain in his chest and the blood that poured down thickly. Alastair dropped the torture device by his side and turned his head faintly. Dean didn't even give the object a single glance. Taking it as a very good sign, Alastair pushed Dean forwards onto his hands.

"Lick my shoes," he ordered firmly. At first Dean didn't move and Alastair wondered if the hunter heard him. "Lick my shoes until they shine with your spit."

Knowing that he shouldn't try to piss Alastair off, Dean leaned down and tentatively licked one side of the shoe, clearing the muck from them. The strong taste of leather filled Dean's mouth as well as the blood and dirt, which made him want to gag but he remained steady and continued until one shoe was completely clean.

"Now the other one," ordered Alastair.

Without saying a word or moving away, Dean did as he was told and licked the other one clean. Once Alastair was happy, he pushed Dean away from him and grabbed a bottle of water on top of the bureau and threw it towards Dean. It landed halfway between them and Dean gently reached for it, almost worried that doing so would anger the demon but he was ignored. Grabbing the bottle Dean opened it roughly and took a large swig before putting the top back on and placing it to the side.

"May I ask something?"

The demon didn't pause in his actions. "Since you asked so nicely... sure."

"What if Sam or Cas arrive before you're finished with me?"

The demon chuckled as he turned and kicked off his shoes before loosening his shirt from the confines of his jeans. Dean watched every movement, eyes lingering upon the long, pale fingers pulling the material away from his body. Abruptly, Dean blinked rapidly as Alastair's words pulled him back into the present.

"I'll never be finished with you, Dean," he purred before his voice changed to a hard tone. "Besides, neither of them will get here before this is over."

"How can you be so sure?"

Alastair still kept a distance from Dean and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, making Dean's mouth water but upon reaching the end he didn't take it off. Instead, he left it and approached another door in the room which Dean correctly guessed was a closet. As it opened, he felt his chest tighten as it was something he didn't want to see.

A girl who looked no older than seventeen was manhandled by Alastair who held her upper arm seemingly too tight and pulled her from the small closet. She was blinded folded and her long blonde hair was messy and hung freely around her face. The blue jeans she wore were dirty and covered in marks that looked to be blood. The loose white shirt covering her torso was ripped in several places with numerous drops of blood on it also. As she was pulled closer, Dean could see that she wore no shoes but her feet appeared unharmed.

As Alastair pushed her away from him, she hit something that sounded like a mattress and a quiet sobbing reaching his ears. It made Dean's heart tighten in his chest but he still remained silent, knowing that the demon would not want his opinion on this.

"I can be sure," replied Alastair, coming back into view, "Because you have no idea where you are and because it's going to take your brother a while the get here."

"And Cas?" asked the hunter quickly.

"Do you really think he's going to want to see you?" Alastair asked, incredulously. "Especially after what you did to him?"

"I'm still in his charge," said Dean knowingly.

"Perhaps," said Alastair, stopping in front of him. "But you hurt him. He's been disgraced and it's your fault. He'll send your brother and stay away."

Holding his razor again, Alastair pressed it against Dean's cheek. "Want to guess what's about to happen now?"

"You don't need her Alastair," said Dean roughly, his voice the loudest it has been all night. "You've got me. Do whatever you want to me but leave her alone."

"Oh, such the gentleman, Dean but I'm not going to do anything to her. You are. And don't think I'm finished with you yet. Stand up," ordered Alastair.

On shaking legs, Dean got to his feet and waited. Alastair still stood before him and again, stroked his cheek gently, a faint smile present on his face. "Oh, don't worry, Dean, I'll start on you again once you're finished with her. And remember, I'm watching."

"What am I supposed to do?"

Alastair had begun to walk away but stopped at the hunter's question. He turned again and shook an index finger at him. "I'm a little disappointed, Dean. I had hoped you already knew the answer to that." He took a deep breath and grabbed Dean's shoulder and led him towards the bed. "Slice her open, carve into her delicate, pale skin and do what you did while under my tutelage."

"But... she'll die," said Dean, voice breaking on the last word.

"Yes, she will," said Alastair shrewdly. "We're not in Hell anymore, Dean. Now, get started."

Dean found it difficult to ignore the excitement that lathered Alastair's voice. Taking a deep breath, Dean took hold of the razor that was held out to him and he knelt on the bed, beside the girl who lay on her back. Suddenly, a dull white light filtered into the room and Dean looked over to where it was coming from. Alastair was standing at one of the windows, opening the curtain slightly.

"I want you to see what you're doing," he said quietly.

Slowly, Dean licked his lips as looked the girl over. Her lips quivered as she continued to sob, small wet patches showing through the material of the blindfold. Lifting the razor to her clothing he abruptly stopped and lowered his arm by his side and got off the bed, standing on his feet and turning to face Alastair.

"No."

The word was spoken in a quiet but firm tone and Dean held the demon's suddenly sharp gaze. Alastair approached and stopped before Dean, looking down at the defiant hunter who still held his ground.

"I suggest you start," Alastair whispered dangerously.

"No," sighed Dean, tone still firm.

A sickening thud sounded through the room as Alastair backhanded Dean again, sending him flying across the room, hitting the wall before landing on the floor. Curling onto his side, Dean groaned as the cuts on his chest worsened and pain exploded through him. Alastair wasted no time in reaching him and shoving him onto his back before stabbing a blade through the one of the scars on his abdomen.

Dean screamed loudly but Alastair ignored it as well as the sounds coming from the bed, the woman seemingly nervous about the sudden commotion. Yanking the knife from Dean's body, Alastair threw it across the room and plunged two fingers into the hole, forcing the hunter's body to give them enough room to wriggle inside.

"Imagine if Sammy could see you now? How proud do you think he'd be of his big brother?"

"Shut up!" Dean yelled at the demon before giving a shout of agony.

As Alastair's fingers continued to wriggle inside him, Dean tried to move away from the uncomfortable touch but found the wall beside him prevented it, so instead he arched his back, wondering if it would lessen the pain. Dean shut his eyes tight and Alastair dropped his head beside Dean's ear and licked the lobe.

"I have missed your insides, Dean," said Alastair, reminding the hunter of how this nightmare began. "They feel like just how I remember."

"Stop... please..."

"Are you going to behave and do what I say?"

"Yes," the hunter stammered, opening his eyes and focusing upon Alastair, whose eyes had turned white.

Alastair licked Dean's ear lobe one more time before removing the fingers from his body and getting to his feet. The demon backed away and walked to the other side of the room, turning in time to see Dean just getting to his feet. He went back to the bed and picked up the razor that had fallen from his grasp. Kneeling on the bed beside the young girl, Dean held his breath and ripped the white shirt open, exposing her chest to him before he pressed the cold tip of the blade against her pale skin in between her breasts, causing her to give a startled gasp.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered, feeling powerless.

A whimper echoed through his ears, sounding much louder than it should have but Dean clenched his jaw before slicing down her torso very lightly. Barely any blood rised to the surface except for a couple drops which ran down her sides. Dropping the blade beside him on the bed, Dean reached down to the girl's jeans and tore them off her body, ignoring her whimpering.

Leaving only her panties on, Dean picked up the razor again and continued on what he had in mind. Pressing the tip against her left shoulder, he slowly dragged the blade all the way down to the wrist. Ignoring the fresh set of gasps that were sent into the air, he moved to the other arm, making the exact same pattern.

"Why isn't she responding?" asked Dean, feeling a slight trace of concern at the girl's lack of movement to the knife slicing along her skin.

"Don't stop," the demon responded.

All Dean did was nod before turning his attention onto the girl again. Placing the knife just below her bellybutton, Dean pushed the blade through right to the hilt and he listened to the sounds of her struggling before letting himself drown in them, knowing that there was no escaping this. He had chosen this; he should at least enjoy it.

By the time Dean was finished, hours had passed and the girl on the bed was no longer recognisable and she no longer made any sounds. The motel room had turned eerily silent except for the sounds of Dean's heavily breathing. Hopping off the bed again, he walked to the side of the room as Alastair moved towards the bed, wanting to examine his work.

After a lengthy inspection, a wide grin showed through on Alastair's face, telling the hunter that he was impressed. The demon that walked away from the body, seeming to have lost interest in it and he approached Dean, placing a hand against his shoulder, pushing him against the wall. Dean left his arms limp by his side as he waited for the next parts to come, which he hoped were going to be at least a little pleasant.

"Our chat isn't finished yet, Dean."

"What would you like to chat about?" asked Dean, challengingly.

"Your loyalties."

A faint frown appeared on Dean's face and he looked up into the demon's eyes. "What of them?"

"I want them to be mine," said Alastair without hesitation. "You've been running from me for a long time, Dean. It's time it ended. You know Azazel spoke the truth that night, about your place in the family... how they don't need you..."

"Shut up..."

"Don't interrupt," said Alastair, sticking a finger in Dean's face which he glanced at, wondering if he could bite it off. "They don't need you. Mommy's dead, daddy's dead, you've lost count how many time Sammy's chosen others over you and Adam's not here anymore. It seems you've failed your father more times than you know and it seems that everyone leaves you. You're alone Dean. You need someone."

"You really do need to shut up..."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Dean, have I touched a nerve?" asked Alastair, false mocking clear. "Daddy protected Adam. You protected Sammy. But... who protected you?" Alastair grinned at Dean's lack of response. "Come on, Dean. Who protected you from the big scary world?"

Taking the razor from Dean's hand, he pressed it into the soft hollow of his shoulder. Alastair waited until Dean took a few breaths before he looked at him again. "I would like an answer, Dean."

He rammed it in hard, driving the long blade to the hilt and from experience Dean knew it was jabbing out the back of his shoulder. Pain erupted through his body, making it throb laboriously. Tears flowed freely from Dean's eyes and Alastair watched them with interest. In Hell, Dean had shed tears before but this time it seemed different.

"No one!" Dean screamed in the demon's face. "No one ... no one took care of me."

"That's right. No one protected Dean," confirmed Alastair.

As Alastair pushed against the blade in his shoulder, Dean reached up with the arm that could move to grab at anything he could get hold of on the demon and eventually he took hold of his shirt which was still hanging loose around him. Dean squirmed against the wall, dread and panic gurgling through him, his breath quickening further. As the tip of a new razor teased across Dean's other shoulder, he shook his head slowly from side to side but no words came from the moving mouth.

"You know, Dean..." His name cut cruelly from those evil lips it sent a hollow shudder in Dean's chest that alone stole his breath. "...I could protect you..." the tip of the razor found the tender flesh before jamming it into place, drawing out screams from Dean that brought a small smile to Alastair's face.

Then Alastair waited. Waited until Dean's breathing returned close to normal before making the hunter look at him. Dean's eyes quickly glazed over but they were soon looking him over and a knowing smile came to Alastair's face.

"My, my, Dean," he whispered reaching down and grabbing hold of Dean's cock forcefully. "So hard for me."

Dean shuddered in a mixture of pleasure and shame. Alastair's hand pumped his cock roughly, pulling and pinching at the head, all the while his eyes locked onto Dean's and Dean stared back, finding that he was unable to look at anything else. Gasping in what he knew was pleasure; a faint shade of pink tinged his cheeks, embarrassed that he could possibly get off on this.

Arching against the wall, Dean's lower half moved closer to Alastair and he couldn't take it any longer. "Please..."

Alastair's movements against him slowed, making Dean feel more desperate for the release he wasn't yet allowed to have. "First you need to be loyal to me and prove it."

The last two words made Dean's desperate gyrations against Alastair stop and his breathing to slow down. "Prove it?" he asked slowly. "How?"

Releasing his hold on Dean, Alastair yanked the two razors from his body, ripping several tiny screams from Dean, some from shock some from the pain. Dropping one, he moved the other to his arm and cut a line and held it out to the hunter.

"Drink."

Dean's blood ran cold. He couldn't be serious? Dean's eyes widened as he looked to the blood which steadily dripped off Alastair's arm to the demon's white eyes. It was soon clear that he wasn't kidding.

"What will it do to me?"

A chuckle fell from the demon's evil lips. "It will make you mine." Seeing the fear flood Dean's face, Alastair continued. "It's what you want, Dean. I can see it and deep, deep down you know it too. You want to belong to someone, want someone to take care of you, protect you and I will do just that, when you drink my blood and become mine."

Without skipping a beat, Dean lunged forward and wrapped his lips around Alastair's bloody arm and sucked greedily, drinking as fast as he could, choking every so often when it became too much but Alastair didn't stop him. He just stroked Dean's short hair with one hand while the other arm was wrapped around his torso, holding him close. As Dean's free arm did the same and held his side, Alastair breathed deeply, enjoying the moment that the hunter finally became his.

Sensing when Dean had had enough, Alastair roughly pushed him off and shoved him onto the bed before pushing the dead girl off without touching her. As Dean glanced down he noticed the blood stained sheet and made to push it away but it was quickly forgotten when something grabbed his ankles and pulled him down.

His head fell back heavily against the bed as his legs wrapped around Alastair's waist, pulling him in close. The demon didn't prepare Dean and he didn't warn before slamming on home inside Dean's body. The hunter shouted in pain, echoing in Alastair's ears, making him grin with sadistic pleasure and he pounded into Dean several times before finally, the hunter came undone.

Without being touched again, Dean's orgasm hit him hard and hot white spurts shot from Dean's body as he screamed Alastair's name, gripping the sheets tightly. With a little more composure, Alastair's orgasm reached its end and he spilled his seed inside Dean's abused body. Once it was over, he stilled and bent down over Dean's body, holding his face in one large hand, making their eyes meet and Alastair leaned in close, his breath hitting Dean's face.

"You are now mine," he whispered possessively. "You belong to me. Is that clear?"

"Yes," said Dean instantly, nodding and keeping his eyes on Alastair. The demon smiled wickedly before crushing his mouth to Dean, tasting his blood on the hunter's bruised and swollen lips.

Pressing one hand in the middle of Dean's chest, Alastair chanted lightly, his eyes closed. Dean looked down and watched curiously as a red light spilled over them both, making him look away but when turning back, he noticed most of his scars along with the punctures in his shoulders had been healed.

It was not what Dean expected. He thought he would lose the deal completely and have almost no skin left but seeing as he still had some scars; it seemed Alastair was not going to forgive him entirely. Removing his hand, Alastair stroked Dean's face almost softly before pulling out of Dean's body and moving away from him.

"Sleep, my pet. You will need it."

Without having to be told twice, Dean moved into a more comfortable position on the bed and closed his eyes and let the sounds of nothing sweep over him. For the first time since he's encounter with Alastair, no nightmares of Hell haunted him.

* * *

When morning dawned and light spilled into the room, the hunter lying on the blood stained sheets opened his eyes, squinting lightly as he glanced around. He was alone, well, except for the dead body on the floor which had not yet been moved. Moving slowly and as quietly as he could, Dean got off the bed and found his clothes sitting on top of the bureau. He dressed quickly and when he turned he jumped faintly, startled as Alastair stood there, staring, a wide grin on his face.

Dean looked him over. He had dressed too and suddenly, Dean felt differently. No hatred or anger raced through his veins. Instead, it was curiosity that tugged at him, making him wonder what was about to happen now.

"Are you ready to begin?"

Dean only nodded to those words and Alastair came towards him. Dean swallowed hard over the lump in his throat but he held his ground and looked up at the blue eyes piercing through him.

"I'm glad to hear it," said the demon quietly. "I have something for you to start with."

With a click of his fingers, the door opened as though a gust of wind had blown through and before long there were two people standing at the door with a third between them. Fear ran through Dean's body. It was Sam. He looked beaten and bloody but very much alive as he struggled with the two demons holding him.

"Dean!?" he yelled, finally seeing his brother. "What are you doing? Help me!"

Dean lowered his eyes guiltily but he made no attempt to help. The two demons placed Sam on a chair which Alastair had placed in the centre of the room and they easily tied him to it. Putting an arm around Dean's shoulders, Alastair walked him over to stand before his little brother.

"Relax, my pet," said Alastair, sensing Dean's hesitation. "You're not going to kill me. I just want you to mark him. Decorate him as I did to you. Do you think you can handle that?"

"Yes," said Dean quietly, nodding.

"Good," said Alastair, leaving Dean's side, choosing to stand to the side, getting a good view.

"Dean, Bobby and I have been searching for you." He got no response from his brother. "Dean, he's missing. Bobby's gone and I don't know what happened. Dean, please-"

Sam's words were cut short as the older hunter placed a large piece of silver tape of Sam's mouth. Taking Alastair's favourite razor in hand, Dean ripped off Sam's shirt in one stroke, letting the tatters fall to the ground.

"I'm sorry, Sam," said Dean, eyes closed. "This is how it has to be."

Upon them opening, Sam's hazel eyes widened drastically as he locked onto his brother, noticing the difference. Fear flooded him and sheer panic gripped at his heart as all that stared back was a pair of white opaque eyes.

* * *

A/N: I know giving Dean white demon eyes like Alastair probabaly isn't realistic but when I thought of it as the ending, I liked it and it stuck. Thank you for reading.


End file.
